


Falon'Din Cannot Carry Her, and Andraste Will Not Accept Her.

by SpookyKing



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyKing/pseuds/SpookyKing
Summary: The Inquisitor was struck down during the battle with Corypheus, sure, he was dead. But now, the Inquisiton must be left to grieve their fabled Herald, and revel in their glory. Thankfully, forgetting her shortcomings.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan
Kudos: 17





	Falon'Din Cannot Carry Her, and Andraste Will Not Accept Her.

**Author's Note:**

> I started playing Dragon Age again and it gave me hella ideas  
> And tbh I may continue this Devaassa is one of my favorite characters of mine, and this may be just an introduction into a series of basically Varric writing about her life as Inquisitor.  
> For context on Dee:  
> She's an elven warrior, sword and shield, and she romanced Solas.  
> Have fun.

“Inquisitor Devaassa Lavellan was an honorable woman. Countless times she has thrown herself into danger to save even complete strangers. She took upon herself the burden of Inquisitor when none else were willing. She not only valued prowess in combat, but kindness.”  
Cassandra's thick Nevarran accent echoed through the Chantry. Many thought it strange for the services of a Dalish Elf to be held in an Andrastian Chantry, but Cassandra remembered her words.

Devaassa had approached her, something missing from her face.  
“I was not aware your tattoos could be removed.”  
Devaassa tensed at the question, eyes cast downward.  
“Solas, he found a way. And in doing so, shook my faith for my Gods.”  
She took a pause, to gather a shaky breath. She was trying not to cry.  
“Everyday I find myself straying further from my ancestors and towards the Chant. Andraste and The Maker are seeming all the more real to me, than the Gods I once worshiped.”  
“May I ask, what could he have done to shake your faith so?”  
Devaassa released a quiet sob, hand flying to her mouth to muffle it.  
“I apologize, it is obvious you do not wish to discuss in detail.”  
“Maybe one day, but Cassandra, should something happen to me. I want my last rites done in a Chantry.”

When Sera stood to say her words, her voice shook. “Dee was good, yeah? She was good people. She was more than a butt for a throne. She was always out, helpin’ the little people, every servant who ever came to help her she asked their name…” Sera had to stop there, making her way outside to sulk.

Devaassa was at the War Table, alone, or so she thought. Sera was hiding in the room, she had set up a prank for Dee to run into, and was waiting for it to be set off. The door opened, an elven recruit shuffled in, as if afraid of the floors.  
“I-Inquisitor?”  
“Yes, da’len?”  
“Those reports you requested, Your Worship,”  
The elf handed over the stack of papers in trembling hands.  
“Would you mind telling me your name, da’len?”  
“Uh….it’s Dalinev, Your Worship.”  
“Thank You, Dalinev. You are dismissed.”  
The elf scurried out of the room, on quick feet. Sera felt it appropriate to reveal herself  
“Do you do that to every recruit who brings you Big Important Papers?”  
“I’m not even going to ask how you got in here, and yes. I do.”  
“Why? Never took you for the kind to care about the names of your footmen.”  
“Sera, I was certain you knew me better than that. I do not have the luxury of knowing every person under my command, however, a few faces may help.”  
“After hearing that I should tell you, I snuck a stink bomb under the table, and it’s about to go off….Now?”

The Bull guided Sera back inside the Chantry, after having calmed her down. She was resigned to quiet tears in the back corner of the Chantry. Bull took his turn.  
“Originally, I joined the Inquisition for gold, some demons to kill. I stayed because the woman who led it was badass.”  
Bull suppressed his laughter at the gasps from Chantry sisters (and Commander Cullen),  
“She faced down dragons, demons, and magisters with no fear in her face.”

The dragon roared low in it’s throat, it was going to spit fire.  
Dee always took Bull dragon hunting with her, she knew how much he liked it. She also knew he would be the most likely to not die.  
Bull, caught up fighting the dragonlings that came to their mothers rescue, did not see the dragon aiming it’s fire right at him.  
Devaassa did, jumping between Bull and the dragon, pulling him behind her shield by his horns. The dragon released it’s fire, stopping at Dee’s shield.  
Before Bull could process what happened, she was climbing on the dragons head, sword in hand and roasted shield discarded in the sand. The dragon thrashed and writhed as Dee drove her sword into its skull.  
“Holy Shit Boss!”  
She slid her way off the corpse, blood streaking her white armor. (Why she wore white into battle Bull would never understand).  
“You must be more careful, had I not been there we would have had roasted Qunari.”

Dorian was next in line, face significantly downcast. “I have to admit, I never expected to find a friend in the Inquisition. However, it seems Inquisitor Lavellans speciality was, challenging expectations. She was one of the precious few people I considered a friend.”

“It does not trouble you that I am from Tevinter?”  
“Dorian, how many times must I say it? The circumstances of ones birth mean about as much to me as Orlesian politics do to a nug.”  
“You underestimate the presence of nugs in the Orlesian Court, Inquisitor, did Halamshiral teach you nothing of Orlais?”  
“In all seriousness, Dorian,”  
“Oh you know how I hate seriousness.”  
“Dorian, it has never troubled me. Just as I am unlike most Dalish, you are unlike most Tevinter.”

Vivienne, led Dorian away from the Inquisitors urn. An extravagant thing, gilded and engraved. Her and Josephine had shilled out a fortune for it.  
“The Inquisitor was a treasure, there are few purely kind souls in Thedas, she was one of them.”  
While Vivienne and Devaassa had their disagreements, particularly in mages, Vivienne respected The Inquisitor. She had good intentions, underneath her naivety. However, a funeral was not the place to say those things.  
“She will always hold a place in my heart, and the hearts of all.”

“My dear, magic is dangerous as fire is dangerous. Those who do not understand that, get burned.”  
“Does everyone not deserve a chance, Vivienne? Because one happens to be born with magic we assume they are dangerous? That sounds the same as someone assuming I am a thief for having pointed ears.”  
“Darling, I tire of these circular arguments. You have made your decision about the rebel mages, and I disagree. We have wasted enough time.”  
Devaassa looked defeated, still in her armor from the field. She had tracked mud into Havens Chantry that the sisters were desperately trying to clean.  
“Vivienne, occasionally I wish I had been born with magic.”  
“That is not something you want to wish for.”  
“But it is, to have such a connection to the fade, to be connected to my gods. The chance of becoming Keeper of my clan.”  
“To be connected to the fade is to be connected to demons, to be in constant fear of your own sanity. Please, my dear, be grateful you were not born with this.”

After Vivienne, the people filed out of Skyholds Chantry. Cole stayed near her urn, letting the others slip past him, missing his presence entirely.  
“Sharp, cold, piercing.  
Claws of the demon under my skin.  
I am a blasphemer, who will take my ashes?  
Falon’Din cannot carry them,  
Andraste cannot accept an elf.  
Pulled between two worlds,  
Grasping, reaching, yearning.  
I want to belong.”  
Warden Blackwall, or Thom Rainier as he had been revealed came up behind Cole.  
“It is still concerning when you do that.”  
“They are her thoughts, she is here. She heard everything.”  
“She’s here?”  
“She wants you to know, she’s sorry. For forcing you to live your lie. She was angry you lied to her. She regrets it.”  
“I want her to know, I will try to become a better man. In her memory. She was more honorable than I ever hoped to be.”

“How could you do this to me? Your whole life, was it all a lie? Everything you ever told me? I was under the impression we were friends, and I turn around to find out you are nothing but a traitor.”  
“I can offer no apology for what I’ve done, I can not ask for your forgiveness in good conscience.”  
“You have been given your punishment, live your lie ‘Warden Blackwall’ feel the guilt of taking another mans life and wearing it as your fancy Orlesian mask.”  
Devaassa stabbed her sword into the table in the stables of Skyhold  
“You cannot expect me to do this,”  
“I do, indeed. You are lucky I haven’t struck you down where you stand.”  
She turned quickly to cover the tears in her eyes. She stormed out of the stables, leaving “Blackwall” to wallow in his own guilt.

Solas, was the one Cole visited next. He was sulking in the bottom of the rotunda as he always did.  
“She forgives you.”  
“Her heart always stretched to even those most unworthy of her love.”  
“You were never unworthy  
The feel of her hands in yours  
The look of the moonlight in your eyes  
She treasured you.”  
“She had no right to.”  
“She wants to see you.”

Varric lifted his quill. He was lucky Devaassa had come to him with so much before she died. He had not attended the funeral, the book was far more important than sobbing over her. Surely, her tale would sell the best out of all his books. It was a fitting memorial to such a figurehead.


End file.
